That's Not My Name
by Oliviatheolive
Summary: Brian makes a mental note to inform every one of those half-wit baristas what his name is tomorrow.
1. Monday

**Story Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Queer as Folk characters in this story. They belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No copyright infringement is at all intended and no money will be made.

 **Monday**

The first time it happens Brian doesn't think much about it. He accepts his large skinny latte with an extra shot of espresso without much fanfare from marker stained fingers. Wrapping a cashmere blue scarf around his neck and tucking the morning post underneath his arm, before swiftly leaving the coffee shop. It's not until he's sitting behind his desk at Kinnetik reading over irate emails from clients and shaking his head at his employee's lazy mistakes, does Brian finally take notice of his coffee container. Written in black sharpie lettering reads, 'BRAD'.

He pauses. Hands hovering over the keyboard as a frown transcends his face, because Brian hates the idea of having someone's else's coffee. He isn't at all concerned about stealing another customer's hot beverage. He's more so worried about consuming unnecessary calories and fat content which he hadn't planned on today. He seriously doubts he'll be able to make it to the gym tonight or tomorrow with the growing workload piling up on his desk.

The strange thing about this situation is that his drink taste just like his regular order…. but he quickly displaces these thoughts when he glances loftily down at the computer screen, observing that an hour has passed without his notice. He has a 11:30 am meeting with Bailey's Burgers and because his staff has proven to be so ridiculously incompetent, they need all the time they can get to prepare and make last minute changes. His time is fleeting. Brian can't afford to take up precious mental space over accidentally stealing Brad's coffee.

* * *

Thank you so much for taking to time to read this! This one is super short- a lot shorter than the rest. Stay tuned for tomorrow. _Olivia._


	2. Tuesday

**Story Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Queer as Folk characters in this story. They belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No copyright infringement is at all intended and no money will be made.

 **Tuesday**

The next morning Brian wakes up with sore shoulders, a tired mind and an aching back begging to be put back to rest. He spent most of last night hunched over his desk and not at all in the positive, life-affirming sort of way. Working until close to midnight, only receiving 3 hours of sleep, Brian drags his tired sleep-deprived body out of bed and into the bathroom. In the shower, he leans against the glass doors, letting the warm water soothe him for a few indulgent minutes before jumping out to begin another tortuous day.

Putting on clothes is more of a hassle than usual because of his stiff joints and throbbing limbs. But by the grace of all that's divine, Brian manages to puts his clothes on, take the elevator to the ground floor and hobble over to his car.

Driving to his business takes the predictable seven minutes in the ripe morning. Parking in the company lot and jogging over to the coffee shop across the street, takes less than three minutes. If Brian's lucky, he'll be back at Kinnetik and looking over emails in a little over five minutes. Fifteen minutes' flat, this has been his routine for the past two weeks.

Brian finds his preferable shop, Coffee Monster, nearly empty. Clean tables and chairs wait forlornly for occupants. Calling out to the few customers within the small building ' _to take a seat'_ and _'relax'_. Brian usually bypasses these urges to hang around the shop with the persistent clouds of obligation and duty loitering above him. Due to the weakened state of his body and mind, he stares dumbly back at the chairs and the idea of 'relaxation', as he joins the two-man line. When he orders his coffee, repeating his name excessively to the young curly haired woman at the cash register. She smiles sneakily up at him as he pays for his coffee.

Brian sighs in relief at the 'BRIAN' written boldly on his coffee cup.

* * *

Have a nice Tuesday! Olivia


	3. Wednesday

**Story Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Queer as Folk characters in this story. They belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No copyright infringement is at all intended and no money will be made.

 **Wednesday**

"Good morning!" Ted announces, waltzing in without knocking.

Brian gives the man a swift glowering look at his sunny disposition before returning to his work. Back hunched over like bow, sooner or later his name will go from 'the Boss' to the 'Hunchback of Kinnetik' if he keeps this up.

Ted leans across his desk, joyously, running his fingers along his supplies and then his coffee container. Brian smacks them away and the stubby fingers scamper off.

"Hmm," Ted says after a moment. Brian rolls his shoulders back and pretends as if he hasn't heard the man in front of him. A man that's very close to getting fired if he doesn't make himself scarce. "Or should I say, Good morning Ryan."

Brian frowns, straightening out his back to give Ted half of his attention. The older man grins as he points to the name, 'RYAN', written in the same black lettering as the day before on his coffee container. He feels his blood begin to boil.

 _Fuck._

Brian makes a mental note to inform every one of those half-wit baristas what his name is tomorrow.

Glancing back up, Ted is still there. Leaning over his desk, watching _him_ with an amused glint in his eyes and a dopey smile on his face. Brian sighs, settling his pen down and closing the folder that he _was_ working on. "Did you want something?"

Shaking his head, Ted laughs. "Nope. Just wanted to, you know? Just say, hi." Grinning, again. If Brian were to speculate over Ted's good mood, he would conclude that it's most likely related to the fact that he's in some new relationship with Rudy…. Roger? Richard…. Or maybe Ron. Possibly Richard. But all Brian knows is that he can't stand a happy Ted. He so desperately yearns to bring the man back to his rightful depressed, self-loathing, Eeyore state, he's been so accustomed to throughout the previous years, but Brian can't summon the necessary nasty words to do it.

So, he glowers.

And rolls his eyes.

And then says, "Well, you said it, hi." Turning away from the man's gaze to study the computer screen. Brian has another packed day. He's still waiting to see what his team has planned for the meeting with Daniel Rugby, a high-end hipster eye-glass wear company, by Friday. Ted, his happy mood, and his hopes of communication can see their way out. "Now, bye."

Brian looks up a second later, noticing the lack of the sound from his office door opening and closing. When he notices Ted still in his office, he throws his hands up in defeat. "Don't you have work to do? Financial statements to look over…. Accounts to account?" Brian asks, trying to inspire his friend of any forgotten work task to complete.

Ted shrugs. "Not really."

Shaking his head, at his last wits, he states plainly, "Get out Theodore. Just get out."

"Alrightie then, Ryan," Ted hollers over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the office.

Brian sighs, he really hates the name Ryan.


	4. Thursday

**Story Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Queer as Folk characters in this story. They belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No copyright infringement is at all intended and no money will be made.

 **Thursday**

On Thursday, Brian takes his coffee cup from a boy with short pudgy fingers, blonde hair and a smile as bright and warm as sunshine. He forgets, completely, to check the name written on the side of his cup and he doesn't make due on his threats from yesterday. He's too busy trying not to ogle the barista with the perky bottom and who looks barely legal, and focus instead on the folder of important information regarding Daniel Rugby's eye-glass sales from the previous years, Brian asked his secretary to draw up. He's looking over shit that his lower ranking employees should be doing.

Briefly, he wonders if he'll ever stop having to do the job of many.

It isn't until he's half way to his office. His left foot landing on the linoleum flooring of Kinnetik's lounge area, when he brings the cup to eye level and sees the name, 'IAN,' written across the white container. There's something about these names, 'BRAN', 'RYAN', and 'IAN', that make his brain itch but he doesn't have the time or the mental capacity to give room to this type of exploration when he still has so many other things to accomplish at work. He just knows that tomorrow he's going to be after a certain blonde's bottom- and not at all in the way he would like- more so, you fucked up and I'm going to let you know.

So, Brian sips the familiar beverage throughout his morning and settles into work, not minding the unknown fat content and calories.

The rest of his day is a mess. Brian spends most of his work period yelling at his copy writers and correcting sloppy mistakes. Poor Mary cried for ages after Brian ripped into her after hearing one of her disparaging comments about Brian's supposedly unrealistic requests.

Brian stated calmly and with all the patience of a wise old man, "You can shove that comment up the same place you'll be shoving your unemployment checks with that talk." The unearthly silence that descends the room is as heavy as a fifty-pound weight crashing to the ground and just as unsettling.

When guilt knocks upon his door, around three pm, he's spent, both physically and emotionally. Brian hides away in his office, lying haphazardly over his sofa, shielding his eyes from the winter sun and trying to calm his urgent feelings of doubt. Resembling one of those dramatic scenes in films from the 50's with the overly distraught female lead pinned to her bed by her tiresome emotions.

No one told him it would be this hard. No one told him that his work would lose its spark. He's the last one to leave every night and the first one to arrive in the morning. This company is feeling more and more like a padlocked prison than any other company he's worked for in the past.

Feeling more confined than usual in his overly large office, Brian makes a point of leaving earlier in the day. He wants to spend a night out at Babylon, thinking it'll solve all his problems, but even the thought of going anywhere else besides the loft has his body aching in protest. Not even the anticipation of burying his cock deep in some twinks ass will relieve the tension from his neck and shoulders.

And that's the problem. For the life of him, Brian can't even remember the last time he stuck his dick in someone, and for some odd reason this makes him hate Ted and his stupid boyfriend Ron, Roger- what the fuck ever- even more. No wonder Ted's waltzing into people's office with that huge satisfying grin during Kinnetik's two week long and _counting_ shit storm; the man has a guaranteed fuck as soon as he arrives home every night. Whilst Brian has turned into the fucking Wicked Witch of the East. Green skin, hooked nose and all.

In any universe where Ted is getting off and Brian isn't, is a cruel and fucked up world. So, he fucks off to the gym to spend some quality time in the sauna, looking to get one off. And he does, but the blow job isn't nearly as enjoyable as he had envisioned it to be. His mind keeps circling back to the blonde barista with the bright blue eyes and marker stains on his hands; and relationships. Specifically, being in one.

Brian Kinney in a fucking relationship- it's a joke, a gage….it's

a very disconcerting thought.

But the idea of coming home from a long day of shit and having an ass ready and willing to fuck within two minutes' flat is set on playback mode- a never-ending cycle. The idea of it becoming more and more enticing with each loop.

He needs some way to relax, something to take the edge off that won't leave him sick or hung over for days. A good long night of fucking would do it. He's on the verge of calling Mikey and rounding up the gang for a night at Woody's but by nine pm he's already yawning. Feeling older than he was last week, he falls asleep watching, 'A Streetcar Named Desire,' on his expensive Italian couch with a bottle of Jim Bean in one hand and popcorn in the other.

Life is great on the top _or so they say._

* * *

 **Bonjour à tous! Happy Thursday!**


	5. Friday

**Story Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Queer as Folk characters in this story. They belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No copyright infringement is at all intended and no money will be made.

 **Friday**

The next morning finds Brian in a precarious position on the couch. One that leaves his neck sore, face lined, and him thinking, _I can't keep doing this shit._ Sleeping in sounds like a good idea, but he knows he needs to procure an ad today or his restless clients won't be satisfied until they have his balls, or ball. With great difficulty, he rises from the couch, dresses and somehow makes his way out of the loft and to his car. Although it all seems like one giant blur of movement to him.

After hastily parking at Kinnetik, he maneuvers quickly across the street to his beloved coffee shop. There's a slight line of people there, Brian notices when he peers into the window, which is unusual as Coffee Monster ordinarily has one or two customers, if any, when he arrives. But Brian ambles through the doors anyways and heads to the back of the line.

As he waits in line, he considers bringing his new secretary, Inez, a hot beverage. But then he thinks, _she's the secretary, she's supposed to bring me coffee,_ and that settles the matter. Most likely his attitude is due to numerous reasons, one being his stewing anger about the coffee's, feeling sexually unfulfilled and last night's sleeping position. Somewhere in the line, Brian decides that today is the day he'll confront those idiot workers about their mistakes. For several minutes, he focuses entirely on building a tiny storage of rage, moving closer and closer to the cash register, so he can expressly tell every one of those underachieving losers what he thinks about their spelling skills.

But each of his nicely constructed insults that were built specifically for the kill shot face plant on the hardwood floor when he comes face to face with his cashier. Justin, his name tag reads, grins sweetly up at him in greeting. Justin, Brian recognizes a couple seconds too late, is the perky bottomed twink whose been handing off _his_ skinny lattes to God knows who. Justin with the clear blue eyes that makes him think of sparkling oceans and sun-stone's. Sunshine smiles, not at all appropriate for the gloomy downcast morning, which seems more fitting for cornfields rather than today's shit weather and swampy streets.

When those thoughts pass, Brian wants nothing more but to find a book on lesbian poems and vomit over it. He can't believe that shit just came out of him.

Justin goes on smiling, unaware of Brian's sudden castration, fingers twirling a black sharpie absentmindedly around. "Welcome to Coffee Monster, how can I help you?"

"Uh," he stumbles, a bit unnerved. Without his righteous anger fueling his motivation, he flounders in the face of the blond. His spiteful words plucked right before they even reach his lips. He glances above Justin and see's the coffee menu and shrugs his shoulders back. Coffee, he knows. "I'll have a large skinny latte wi-"

"-with an extra shot of expresso," Justin finishes, typing in the order on the cash register. Brian nods dumbly feeling a bit confused, although Justin isn't paying any attention to him.

When Justin does look back up again, he tilts his head back with a breezy grin, blond strands dangling past his ears, just barely brushing his shoulders. "I know you're like a regular here, but we have a few really good other options, if you wanted to try one." He bites his soft pink lips at the end, waiting for a response.

Brian hesitates briefly, gazing into the hopeful eyes, before nodding his acceptance. He isn't exactly sure why he's agreeing to this because he's never been a man comfortable with change. Hell, for the last five years he's been using the same laundry detergent. It's no different with his coffee. It has the right amount of caffeine, sugar and calories to wake him up in the morning and allow him to power through the day. Why he would even dare to change is a mystery within itself.

It may have something to do with him desperately wanting to reach over the counter and take his own bite out of the downy lips which are stretched to the brink, wide and full due to Justin's answering smile.

He misses most of what Justin says, too busy contemplating his attraction. An attraction Brian hasn't felt for someone to this degree for weeks, possibly months, definitely before the avalanche of shit tumbled onto his desk- maybe, never. But whatever it is, the short twink gesturing wildly in front of him as he explains the different coffee drinks is calling to every frustrated and unfulfilled ache in his body.

 _And_ Brian doesn't even like blonds, and he doesn't do chicken. But he wants him badly.

"Shit, sorry," Justin scrubs a hand over his flaming face. "I'm talking too much, aren't I?" He doesn't wait for a response. Shaking his hair back before tugging his too long bangs behind his ears, he mumbles, "Sometimes I can get a little overexcited about the different flavors. But anyways, which one would you like?"

Brian hums, glancing up at the coffee menu, not knowing what any of the strange titles mean. It might have helped if he would've listened to at least some of what Justin was saying. He fiddles with his phone in his pockets, before thinking, _fuck it…_ "How about you decide?"

This must have been the right answer because Justin's smile is nothing less than enchanting.

He takes one of the empty blank coffee cups next to him and starts to write on it with his sharpie. "Any allergies I should I know about? Gluten sensitivities?"

"None that I'm aware of."

Justin gestures to the girl next to him, the one from Tuesday, with thick curly hair to trade places with him. She makes a face and rolls her eyes, but otherwise doesn't make a complaint.

As the blond head's over to the coffee machines, he motions for Brian to follow. "Any special request?"

"Just a shit load of caffeine," he answers, ambling over slowly to the pick-up window, watching Justin's lithe body spin and grab up ingredients without hesitation.

"What do you think about whip cream and 2% milk?"

"I don't."

Justin frowns. "You don't what-"

"I don't think about them. I'd prefer not to become obsess."

Justin snorts, shaking his head, as he picks up at the container labelled, '2%' and pours half a cup into the mixer. Brian groans, already feeling the need to head to the gym.

Justin smiles in return, holding Brian's gaze, "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

It takes a moment for Brian to compose himself. He shrugs, attempting to downplay how much that one comment pleases him. He takes out his phone and begins to look through messages. Clearing his throat a few times, he says, "Just go easy on the whip cream."

"Aye, aye, captain."

When Justin hands him his coffee, their fingertips touch, lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. Justin waits patiently, leaning over the counter as he watches Brian take a cautionary sip of the coffee.

 _Oh, the calories._

"So, what's the verdict?" Justin asks, anxiously drumming his fingers along the counter.

Brian takes another sip, this one longer, and swishes the dark liquid around in his mouth. "It's not bad."

Justin studies his face for a few seconds before breaking out his _sunshine smile._ "Good!"

The white chocolate mocha with 2% milk and whip cream is simply just divine. If anyone notices as he walks into Kinnetik that there's an extra pep in his step, he doesn't pay them any mind. It maybe the extra calories in his breakfast/lunch or his brief encounter with Justin that's making him feel lighter. The stress of the previous days sliding off him like sand. He forgets all about the name problem for most of the morning. Not until he's safely tucked behind his large desk, doing damage control with Daniel Rugby, when he spies his name of the day on his coffee cup, 'ANN,' and he laughs, "fucking Justin."

* * *

Finally it's Friday! And finally we meet Justin! Da duh da duh! Hope you have an amazing weekend! _Olivia._


	6. Saturday

**Story Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Queer as Folk characters in this story. They belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No copyright infringement is at all intended and no money will be made.

 **Saturday**

Coffee Monster is in full swing when Brian shuffles through the doors from the vengeful wind at a quarter till noon. He's only ever visited Coffee Monster during the early parts of the morning. When the sun is just beginning to shine and his employees are just starting to rise. Brian's not used to the hustle and bustle of the midday crowd, the clamoring chatter and the fresh young faces situated mostly in the lounge area, leaves him feeling jumbled and unsure of himself. There's only a few older individuals sitting blithely in the corners, seeking refuge with their laptops and coffees.

After stomping his snow-covered shoes on the welcoming mat and brushing his trench coat off, he joins the three-person line. Fiddling with the ends of his scarf as he tries to spy Justin behind the counter; desiring to see a peek of the smile he's been envisioning for the better part of the morning and the stale moments of the night. But he's no-where to be found. There's only two baristas and both happen to be taking orders, attempting to sell their customers, with little motivation, on the newest sickly colored pink coffees; inspired by the upcoming insipid holiday which is Valentine's Day.

Brian doesn't know whether to feel disappointed or overjoyed by Justin's absence. There's a delicate hum of a song playing over the shop speakers, which does nothing to ease his apprehension. A waft of a feminine voice blends along with a deeper tenor, crooning of love and homage that makes him want to turn and bolt. Because _he_ shouldn't be here, at this time or on this day. Brian never comes to the shop after seven am nor has he ever set foot in the coffee house on the weekend.

And he hates what those implications are saying about him but at the same time the song makes him feel wistful of being a simple man with simple desires.

Just when he's about to turn and make his exit, fate steps in, and Justin arrives from the back of the shop carrying two large boxes. He smiles happily when he sees Brian, waving three fingers over in his direction. Brian nods back in greeting, settling back in his spot in the line. Justin drops the boxes on the floor behind the barista counters and unloads a few of the paper coffee cups and lids, before sliding the half-empty boxes into the bottom cabinets.

When he stands back up, he waves Brian over to the coffee machines like the previous day. Except this time as Brian weaves through the other customers in line, he tries desperately to ignore the stirring heat in his chest, when he bypasses the cashiers and realizes that he hasn't paid for his coffees since Thursday.

As he approaches the coffee pickup counter where Justin is standing, Brian notices that he looks even more like a teenage wet-dream than usual; with his form fitting sweater, the same soft shade of his delicate blue eyes and slightly baggy faded black jeans. He really could be ogling some teenager, Brian considers a bit disturbed when he observes that Hunter and Justin could be very much the same age, and makes plans to discover Justin's true age as soon as possible.

Just as Brian about to say a greeting, Justin interrupts with, "What was your favorite cartoon growing up?"

"the Peanuts," he answers automatically, brows knitting together. "Wha-Why?"

Justin shrugs. "You'll see." Smiling mysteriously as he turns away to gather his ingredients. Brian watches him work, leaning against the counters overlooking the barista area. There's three bar stools, he considers sitting in, but he's never stayed more than five minutes in the coffee shop and doesn't see any reason why he should change that now. So, he stands and observes the baristas work.

"When did you start working here? A couple of weeks ago?"

Justin snorts over his shoulder. "Try a couple of months ago."

"Oh," he responds hesitantly, feeling at a loss for what to say next. He can't believe that Justin has been working in the shop he receives coffee from five out seven days of the week and he has never noticed him, _for months._ Had the stress of work made him blind?

Justin shakes his head gently with a smile. "Don't worry about it. Honestly, I think this is the first time that I've seen you without your head buried in a file or in your phone."

That can't be helped, Brian thinks. He's a business man with a business to run and almost every single second is precious and needs to be directed towards this business, especially now more than usual.

"How come you aren't trying to sell me on the new drink like the others," he asks, trying to find some subject to latch onto other than work and not noticing someone like Justin.

"Sell you on what?" Brian points to the nearby poster advertising the pastel colored V-day coffees. Justin glowers. "Because their fucking disgusting."

He chuckles. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a horrible sells man?"

The blond glances up shyly from his work, pouring an ungodly amount of _almond milk_ into the mixing container. "Horrible, huh? Maybe, I just need some tips from an experienced teacher."

That could definitely be arranged. "So, you know where I work?"

Justin rolls his eyes. "Of, course. I know where you work. You walk across the street and back every single day." He bends down to grab another item from the small refrigerator. "And why would I need to sell you on anything," he argues. "I already have free reign on your coffees." And to emphasize the point further, Justin shakes the can of whip cream in Brian's face with a smirk before squirting a large amount out.

He groans loudly in play as Justin laughs softly, moving slowly to shield Brian's view from the coffee he's making. Making secretive glances to make sure Brian can't see his work.

Brian doesn't bother to question his behavior, which should leave him feeling unsettled about the amount of trust he's placing in the barista's hands, especially regarding his policy on open drinks, but his mind is more focused on Justin's quick hands around the machinery. Plus, he doubts Justin will try and poison his coffee.

It takes Justin ten minutes to finish making his coffee. Eight minutes longer than what Brian is used to. By the time, Justin places the red mug on the counter and gestures for Brian to take a seat at the bar, all of the customers that were in front and behind him in the line have already left the building with their drink's in hand.

"I mean you don't have to sit if you don't want to… I just-just thought if you don't have anywhere to be then you could sit and- and- _like_ drink your coffee and talk if you want," Justin rambles on.

Brian doesn't pay Justin any mind as he slides into his seat at the bar. Eyes focused instead on the mug of coffee with the overly large snoopy dog made of whip cream covering the entire top of the coffee mug. "This is…this is.." un-fucking-believable, amazing, ridiculous, brilliant, yes, Brian thinks. "You're an artist," Brian states as clear as day seeing Justin in a new light.

"Yeah," Justin responds, leaning into the counter where Brian is sitting. "I'm actually a senior at PIFA."

Brian nods. "Impressive. You must be very good." Mentally calculating that most college seniors are over the age of 21 and sighs.

Justin's cheeks enflame a delicious shade of red at Brian's comment. "I mean, yeah." He shoes a hand toward Brian's drink. "You should drink it before it gets any colder. It's probably like lukewarm because I took so long."

Brian nods, bringing the mug up to his lips. "What is it?"

"Since you liked the white chocolate mocha, I thought maybe you would enjoy the caramel chocolate turtle latte." He takes a quick sip. Justin was right, it wasn't nearly as hot as he's used too, but it's not unbearable. What it is, is delicious, with the right amount chocolate, caramel and toffee all wrapped up in one drink. The only downside is the huge amount of whip cream due to the snoopy, which he feels brush against the bridge of his nose, cheeks, chin and lips, when he goes in to take his second drink.

"Fucks," he says, placing the mug back on the counter. "I've got this shit all over my face, don't I?"

Justin tries to hide his grin behind his hand, which proves impossible. "Just a little," he remarks, handing over a napkin to the older man. Brian takes it with a frown, face heating up in embarrassment as he tries to clean his face off as best as he can. "No, you've missed some on the side."

Brian tries again, sweeping the napkin over his cheeks. "No, it's more so up there and there," Justin points out. "Here, I'll do it." Before he has a chance to protest, Justin is leaning into his face, cupping his cheek with one hand, and rubbing gently with his own napkin in the other hand.

Justin's face is close to his own, so close, that if Brian wanted, like he does now, he could lean a couple inches forward and become intimate with the soft rosy pink lips of his barista. The ones that he's been dreaming about since he became acquainted with Justin this week. When the blue eyes meet his own, reflecting the same desire and thoughts, Brian considers it a done deal. Especially as he feels the hand cupping his cheek begin to guide his face forward and-

"Justin!" a women shrieks, "No, fraternizing with the customers. No matter how hot they are," she comments, eyeing Brian.

Justin turns around and gives her the finger, and she laughs as the ends of her dark ponytail flop around her head. "But really, we could use your fucking help." There's a line of seven customers waiting by the cash register. "You've been over there for forever."

Justin rolls his eyes in response. "Just give me a minute." The dark-haired girl sighs dramatically and turns back to her register.

"You should probably get back to work," Brian comments, straightening his back. Justin hums his agreement and picks up the napkin he once held and leans back in. Brian thinks Justin going to try it again, to kiss him, but he doesn't. He wipes up the rest of the whip cream and pats his cheek.

"There," Justin announces softly, "all clean."

* * *

Ah, Saturday. :D


	7. Sunday

**Story Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Queer as Folk characters in this story. They belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No copyright infringement is at all intended and no money will be made.

 **Sunday**

"Anyways," Emmett finishes after telling the group of friends a long and overly dramatic story about a party planning mishap. "Tell me something good? Mama needs a good story after the week I've had." He looks around the table and receives blank stares. For the most part they've all had a stressful week with very little amusement. He bumps shoulders with Brian, hoping to hear about a new conquest. "What about you Brian? Anything new?"

"Nothing," he answers at the same time as Michael says, "Brian was just telling me earlier how he keeps getting the wrong name on his coffees from the coffee shop he goes to." Brian glares daggers at Michael in response.

Brian hates Sunday dinners. He especially hates them because while Debbie is away on her big gay vacation with her hunky cop boyfriend, Brian's stuck eating Ben's shitty tofu concoctions with Wilma, Fred and Betty.

Ted asks, with his fork suspended in mid-air, "From the shop across from Kinnetik?" Brian doesn't confirm or deny anything, just shuffles food around in his plate. The last thing he needs is Ted getting it into his head that he desires his company during his coffee time and start showing up there with him. _The Horror._

"How many times has he gotten it wrong?" Emmett, smartly, directs his question to Michael. Brian isn't in the mood for gossip, especially about his own situation that was only supposed to be heard by Michael. Fucking Michael.

Michael looks to Brian, who, sighs but answers, "about five times."

"This week!" Michael gossips, picking up a fork full of pasta and imitation chik'n.

Emmett pats Brian's shoulder. "Poor sweetie, that asshole."

"It does seem a bit excessive," Ben agrees.

"Excessive, It's ridiculous. One fuck up every so often, but five times in one week. That's just shitty workmanship," Ted chimes in.

Brian shrugs. He would never accuse Justin of being bad at his job. In fact, judging by Justin's sweet tasting coffee's, he's great at it.

"So, this whole week he's been screwing up your orders- giving you other people drink's? Baby, have you reported him yet?"

Michael smiles devilishly. "That's the thing! Brian says that his drinks haven't tasted any different from his usual order." Except for Friday and the weekend, after he relinquished control of his coffee order to the blond, but they don't need to know about that.

"Huh?" Emmett takes a sip of his red wine. "that's odd."

"What were the name's?"

Brian tries to recount the different names on his fingers as best as he can. "I think one was 'IAN,' 'RYAN," he remembers that one due to Ted and his bullshit happiness. "ANN,' I think 'BRAN' or 'BRAD' maybe, and today 'NATHAN.""

* * *

As soon as he steps into Coffee Monster he's cornered by a small curly haired nobody with a grade A attitude.

"Your late," She tsks, disapprovingly.

"I didn't know I had to make an appointment to get my coffee," he argues, walking through the empty line. He's a little unnerved that she was expecting him. He's never shown up on Sunday, but he was hoping to catch some time with Justin before he heads over to Kinnetik to get some much-needed work done and plan for his impromptu meeting with his copy writers tomorrow.

She rolls her eyes, but Brian spies a slight lift to her lips. "No, shit face. I'm supposed to be leaving in oh' 2 minutes, but I'm stuck here busting my ass having to make your coffee." He's about to comment on the fact that she's not the only person working and he can easily have the other guy unloading the pastries help him, but like a flash, she's amoving down to the machines, pressing buttons and grabbing ingredients.

"Aren't you going to take my fucking order?"

She groans, her eyes cutting across to him. There's mirth hiding behind the agitation of his late arrival. "Justin already told me what to make you."

Brian rolls his eyes, _of course, Justin._ "Where is he?" Brian asks, leaning up against the counter. The same position he was in yesterday.

"Not here." _This cunt_. He glares at her until she sighs, dramatically, and says, "He's off. We aren't open 24/7, you know? We do have lives."

When she slides his coffee across the counter to him, he spies a name not his own written on the cup.

"You put 'Nathan' on here," he points out on the cup. "That's not my name."

"It is now," she replies easily, ripping off her apron and throwing it into a bin by the employee backdoor before coming around to his side of the counter to leave.

Brian fumes by the pick-up window, debating on whether to give this cunt a piece of his mind or just leave, not wanting to anger a friend of Justin's. He decides to leave it for another day and follows the small women to the door until she makes a 180.

Spinning around to face him, she glares menacingly up into his face, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Oh, and I'm Justin's best friend. And if you hurt him- I'll break your face."

* * *

"I once dated an Ian before-and a Ryan and...and a Brad actually."

"What about an Ann?" Brian counters.

Emmett makes a face, "Ew, never an Ann. But maybe a Nate in the future."

"I remember the name Ryan on your coffee that one day," Ted shares, wiping his hands on his napkin. The fettucine vegan alfredo with fake chicken- _sorry_ \- chik'n, was a bit of a mess. Tasty, oddly enough, but the alfredo sauce didn't have nearly the same consistency as the animal kind. This one was more runny and soupy like, although delicious.

"It was Wednesday."

"Right, yes, because that was the day I finished Brocklehurst & Smiths transfers."

Emmett studies Brian, giving him a once over. "You know, I'm really surprised. You don't seem nearly as upset as I thought you would be by someone constantly fucking up your coffee."

He shrugs again, grabbing ahold of his wine glass. "It's a joke. Justin doesn't isn't doing it to be a dick." The only time Justin has been remotely close to a dick is when he tortures him with whip cream, fatty milks, ridiculously sweet tasting sweet coffees and almost kisses.

"You didn't tell me his name is Justin."

Emmett grins. "You're on a first name basis with this guy now?"

Ted counters, "It generally a good idea to know the guy your fucking-"

"-it makes it all the easier to scream his name during it," Emmett finishes. Everyone at the table laughs except for Brian. Emmett nudges him in the arm. "So-

Brian cuts in. "It's hard not to be on a first name basis with the twink who's constantly writing your name wrong." Effectively interrupting Emmett from asking the same question that's been asked of him too many times in his life to recount. Although, usually he enjoys regaling his friends about his conquest, but Justin hasn't been conquered…..yet. Honestly, Brian isn't too sure if it'll ever happen. Does he thik about it? Of, fucking, course. Fuck, he's even dreamed about it. But the only times he sees Justin is at the coffee shop where he works. Although, Brian is sure that with some careful flirting and hints, he could seduce Justin to have a quick one in the coffee shop restrooms, if he wanted. But is that all he wants, just a quickie, in a disgusting space?

"-Especially when said barista has a nice ass and a smile like sunshine."

"What the fuck, Mikey?" Brian yells, his face turning a deep shade of red. He hadn't meant to tell Michael about the sunshine part or the nice ass when he called to bitch about his coffee earlier after that day.

"Michael," Ben chides.

Michael has the nerve to look chagrin. "Your words not mine."

Emmett shrugs a black clothed shoulder, his wine glass masking his sly smile. "Hmm, this changes things. Maybe Justin is trying to get your attention and if so, he's doing a hell of a job if you're still thinking about him after you've had him."

"Or this guy is just plain dumb and is genuinely messing up Brian's name," Michael argues, shoveling food into his mouth.

"Brian, _really,_ you're a smart guy, surely you can figure this one out," Ben says, munching on his slimy tofu. When he's met with a round of dumbfounded expression around the dining table, he carries on. "Well, it's really quite simple." He sighs, and it takes everything in Brian not to pick up his nearly full plate and throw it in his face for making him feel stupid, like he's missing something. If he doesn't get to the fucking point. "What order did you receive the wrong names in?"

Brian thinks back carefully to Monday, working his way back from the opposite direction. "Brad, I think, then Ryan, Ian, Ann- _shit!"_

Emmett and Ted chuckle along, catching on at the same time.

Emmett laughs, sipping his wine. "Hmm, I get it."

"That's not fair," Michael complains. "What's to get? It's just some annoying kid playing games with Bri."

Brian huffs, placing his chin in his palm, feeling something warm and foreign crawl into his chest cavity. _It's my name. It's my fucking name._ It's endearing as fuck and it really shouldn't be.

"Sweetie, he's been spelling out Brian's name this whole week," Emmett explains, grinning widely. "It's sooooo cute."

"What?" Michael asked, testily. "Why would he do that?"

Emmett shrugs. "Maybe this guy got tired of being ignored. Constructed this big plan to get Brian to notice him. We all know you've been super stressed with work and everything. It's kind of adorable in a romantic comedy early 2000s sort of way."

"You have to admit Bri that it's kind of adorable," Ted states.

Michael snorts. "I call it annoying, that's what it is. Plus, Brian doesn't do romance and he especially doesn't need this in his life right now," he says, shoveling more food into his mouth. Side eyeing his friend, he nudges his foot under the table. "Right, Bri?"

* * *

Hello all! I hope you enjoyed this little chapter with the boys. Had to add them in! I must say the end is near though. Although it has been super fun writing this everyday but the plot is coming to an end. Thank you so much for everyone who takes the time to read this story! and also reviews! thank you!


	8. Another Monday

**Story Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Queer as Folk characters in this story. They belong to Showtime and Cowlip. No copyright infringement is at all intended and no money will be made.

 **Another Monday**

When Brian enters Coffee Monster, he unwraps his scarf and heads straight over to join the eight-person line. He spies Justin immediately. He's hard to miss; radiating sunshine and happiness despite his all black weekday work uniform. Their eyes meet across the shop briefly, a momentary exchange of smiles and waves. Unlike the past few days, Justin isn't in any position to leave his post by the cash register and allow him to skip the line. There's only one other employee working and neither can afford to cut corners with the growing crowd. But Brian doesn't honestly mind that much. He's not in any hurry to leave the sight of the barista.

"Can you believe these prices?" A voice asks in his ear. A voice all too familiar which provokes a groan from him.

"Ted," he shouts, turning around to find the older man's dark eyes squinting up at the coffee menu. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ted takes a quick sip of his homemade coffee before gesturing with his other hand to the shop's menu. "Now, Brian, don't take offense but I'm speaking in my professional capacity as your financial adviser-"

"You aren't my financial adviser," Brian responds, glancing warily back over to Justin. The last thing he wants is for Ted and Justin to meet or God knows, make any contact with each other including eye contact.

Ted smirks. "I'm Babylon's and Kinnetik's financial advisers-"

"A mistake I will soon be correcting."

Ted ignores him. "Since I'm an adviser for those establishments- which you own, makes me yours. With these coffee prices, if you invested in a coffee maker," he says flaunting his coffee canister. "You could save a good $30 to $35 a week, $120 a month and $1-"

"Okay, I get it," Brian interrupts, waving the man off. Trust an accountant to make the innocent act of purchasing coffee seem like a reprehensible offense. "I already have a coffee maker."

"I'd suggest you start using it."

"I'd suggest you get lost before you find yourself in the unemployment line," Brian argues, loudly. Too loudly. The red head women in front of them turns around and frowns disapprovingly. He ignores her, instead glancing over at Justin, checking to see if the barista has noticed Ted with him. Nothing, Justin is still taking orders and making friendly conversation with the customers.

"So- the blond must be Justin then, huh?"

"Fuck off Ted!" Brian crosses his arms. _How the hell did he even know?_

"You keep looking over at him," Ted states plainly, taking another drink of his coffee. "To be fair, he keeps looking over here too. He's probably wondering who the hell I am, because let's face it- You've never been much of a social guy. I can't imagine you talking to the oth-"

"Why are you here?" Brian asks, tensely. The line is disappearing too fast, and soon he'll be in Justin's company. Brian would hate if that time was spent alongside Ted.

"I've realized a few things last night. I went home and told Quentin about dinner." _Quentin,_ that's right. Not Roger, Quentin is Ted's florist boyfriend. A man with as equally of a boring job as his boyfriend. "He, like Em, thought the situation about you and Justin was _too_ sweet. But when I was rehashing things in my head- it put things into perspective."

"Oh, please do tell," Brian responds sarcastically.

"Em was right- you didn't really seem upset about the names which leads me to believe that you've known about Justin teasing you, maybe not about him spelling out your name because you seemed as shocked as the rest of us, but…to allow it to go on like this- makes me think that you like-"

"Oh, so what, sue me for not getting upset," Brian snaps.

Ted smirks, knowing exactly what Brian was up to. "I, also, don't think you and Justin have had sex either. I think you want to but if you did- I can't imagine you continuing to come back like this. I was a little unsure about this one until today but the expression on his face whenever he looks at you doesn't scream, _I want your cock in me again,_ it's more of an _I can't wait to talk to you again_. It's sweet. It's weirdly innocent."

What kind of lesbian bullshit is this?

"I didn't come here to fuck with you, or fuck things up with you and Justin, but to encourage you."

"Encourage me to do what?" Brian ask, tight jawed and staring blankly past Justin.

Ted touches his shoulder lightly. "I think you should ask him out."

"The fuck? How is this any of your business."

"You like him," Ted states, and then rolls his eyes. "I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't point that out to you. I'm sure he likes you. You should do it."

They're next in line, watching as Justin prepares the red head women's coffee, when Brian feels desperation hit him like a slap on the back.

"Well, I've been encouraged Theodore. How about you fuck off now? Since you obviously don't need any coffee."

Ted purses his lips. "I'm thinking about getting a croissant." Patting his stomach. "I didn't have much for breakfast."

Brian sighs, there's no losing him.

Ted nudges his arm. "I think he wants your attention."

Instead of coming back to the register, Justin is still standing by the coffee machines, gesturing for Brian to come over. He nods, ambling over and Ted follows behind him.

"Well, well, well. No wonder you keep coming back here, for the perky bottomed blond and the _free coffee._ You sure didn't tell us about that last night, Bri."

By the time they reach Justin, Brian's face is flaming red and he's on the verge of committing murder in this very public place. Brian notices the wary look on Justin's face as his eyes bounce between Ted and him. Brian almost gags at the implication.

"Hey," he says in greeting. "Th-is is Ted, we work together."

"I'm a friend of Brian's," Ted adds, holding out his free hand. Justin's eyes brighten visibly, it's almost too much to look at….almost.

"I'm-

"-your Justin," Ted finishes, shaking the barista's hand. "I've heard a lot about you." _What the fuck?_ Brian pulls out his safety net, his phone, burying his face in it to block away his red cheeks. Fucking Ted! Didn't he _just_ say he wasn't going to fuck things up…..what the hell is this then?

Justin smiles over at Brian. "Really, you have?"

"He has," Ted assures him. "I especially liked hearing about the coffee's. How the wrong names ended up being his name all along. It was very clever and very adorable. I don't think he would have gotten it if it weren't for his friends." It's almost worth it, Ted being there, Brian thinks, as he watches the seemingly cool blonde turn pink and then bright red in embarrassment as Ted's words sink in. Brian can't drag his eyes away from the deep flush, as it travels like wildfire from his cheeks and down to his neck. That is, until Justin drops down to take out ingredients from the mini fridge underneath the counter. Effectively hiding his own face as he gingerly takes out ingredients.

Never fear Justin, never fear. Brian will have his revenge.

When Justin makes his appearance again, cheeks only slightly pink, and eyes actively avoiding Brian's, he begins to work.

"So, what does Brian usually get?" Ted asks Justin.

" _I_ usually get the large Skinny Vanilla Latte but Justin has been making me…try new things."

"I'm trying to expand his interest," Justin explains, as he pours a fourth of a cup of 2% whole milk into the coffee mixer, followed by hazelnut and chocolate syrup. Brian feels Ted's astonished stare at his lack of protest about the large amount of calories Justin is placing in his coffee. He doesn't acknowledge Ted, instead he waits patiently for Justin to finish making his fatty drink.

"I see," Ted replies with a smirk. That simple sentence says more than it should. "So, Justin, do you ever go to Woody's?"

With a frown, Justin shakes his head. "No, not really," he says, stirring the coffee. "It's a little far out from where I live. I mostly hang out at Wall Street." Wall Street, Brian remembers, is a gay bar near PIFA and Carnegie Melon. Full of weird looking queer drunk college kids and a mecca for public displays of childish drama and scorn. Brian went to the place one time in his late 20s, as the bar wasn't around when he was in college, and had taken one look and walked right back out. By the look on Ted's face, Brian can tell their recounting the same memory.

"You should come to Woody's tonight with us," Ted tells Justin. Brian scrunches his hands into tight fist. He should've known this was where Ted was headed. "We always go to Woody's on Monday's." _Lies,_ the gang hadn't been to Woody's altogether for several months.

Justin cocks his head to the side. "Us?"

"Just a few friends of ours."

Although, Justin's responding to Ted, he stares straight at Brian. "I don't know if they would want me around."

"Oh, I'm sure they would," Ted says, nudging Brian. "Right, Bri?"

Brian clears his throat a few times, tucking away his phone. "If you want to come with us. You should...I don't think anyone would object to your presence."

Justin's answering smile is blinding. "What time should I be there?"

Brian doesn't know whether to kill Ted or kiss him.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Happy Monday!** ** _Olivia._**


	9. Another Tuesday

**Another Tuesday**

Brian slides the heavy door back revealing Justin holding a plastic bag and wearing a cautious smile. He nearly slides the door closed if it weren't for the sight of the delicious flush on Justin's cheeks from the cold.

"I brought Thai," Justin announces, bringing the large bag up to view.

"You've been talking to Mikey-"

"-and I came here to explain about what happened last night and apologize. Although, I know you think sorry is bullshit and that I don't owe you anything."

"-And Emmett and Ted as well."

"They came to the shop today and cornered me. It was actually kind of scary."

"Oh, how ever did you manage to survive a visit from the Power Puff Girls?" Brian asks jokingly, leaning against the door frame in his jeans and a white t-shirt, trying to hide his embarrassment at the idea of his friends defending him. It always made him uncomfortable when his friends showed they care.

"With my innocent good looks and complete honesty," Justin replies easily. "Also with free coffee. A lot of it." With a grimace, he continues. "I'm so going to end up getting fired."

Brian smirks. "We wouldn't want that, now would we?" Justin nods, shuffling from foot to foot.

Brian must admit that he's a little intrigued by Justin's visit. After last night, after Justin hadn't shown up, he planned to write him out of his life completely. Cut off ties with all things Justin related which included Coffee Monster and his free but delicious coffee's. Justin's impromptu visit put a wrench in those plans.

"Could I come in?"

Brian hesitates for a few seconds before stepping back abruptly, swinging his arm out into the loft, in a welcoming gesture for him to come in. Justin smiles gratefully as he wanders inside, looking around in amaze as he gets a full view of the place before placing the bag of goods on the bar counter. Brian follows him over to the kitchen, walking straight to the refrigerator to grab a water. He offers one to Justin, but he shakes his head in decline.

"Your place is amazing."

"It does the trick," Brian replies, leaning against the sink counter, as he takes a sip of water. Justin loiters uncertainly at the edge of the bar gazing over at him.

He feels a million miles away, although they're no more than six feet from each other. Brian doesn't necessarily need to be touching Justin, but he would like to be a lot closer to him, closer than six feet. He saunters over to Justin, when that doesn't feel right, he grabs a hold of his wrist, dragging him a long behind to the living room. Maybe this conversation shouldn't be done in the kitchen, Brian considers, but in a more comfortable place.

Brian settles onto to the couch and Justin perches next to him. They're only a hair strand away from each other, barely inches, but Brian still feels antsy.

Justin clears his throat a few times, scooting back into the cushions of the couch, he turns towards Brian and places a hand on his arm. "First off, you must understand that I really wanted to hang out with you and your friends last night, like really."

"What happened?"

He sighs. "I don't want this to sound like a stupid, immature excuse, but it kind of is." Brian arches a brow and gestures for Justin to continue. "Okay, I live in a house with a gazillion roommates, literally. And not all the time, but it happens. Fights and arguments break out. Usually, I don't give two shits about what happens and I go about my day like usual because I'm so not one for physical violence, but for my friends, I have been known in a fit of rage to break windows and slash tires. Last night invol-"

"And how often does this tend to happen?" Brian interrupts, stretching out his arm around the back of the couch. "The slashing tires and breaking windows, because I'm not sure my insurance covers incident protection against crazy baristas."

"Oh, not nearly enough," Justin states, almost succeeding for the nonchalant tone if not for the slight tinge of pink emerging on his cheeks. "But anyways, last night involved my best friend." It takes Brian a second to recall who Justin's best friend is. 'Daphne," he remembers the name tag reading. The barista with the bad attitude and foul mouth. If her behavior last weekend was her default setting, he couldn't fault anyone for wanting to set her straight.

"Daphne?"

Justin nods. "I know she can be a little rough around the edges, but she's my friend and I couldn't just leave her to the wolves. And no," Justin shakes his head at the look of askance on Brian's face. "I'm not going to go into the details because it's ridiculous and stupid and because I don't want you to look badly upon me or-"

"-More so than the slashing tires and breaking windows business." Justin smacks him in the chest, Brian latches onto his hand, keeping it there. "I thought this was supposed to be an apology, not a reenactment of last night."

Justin huffs. "Daphne and I can't fight. We fought aggressively with our words and then passively made our escape." Brian laughs. "I would've called you or Ted but I didn't get your numbers. That won't happen again."

"Again?"

Justin blushes. "Ye-ah-h. I mean, if you ever want me to hang out with you friends," he answers with a stutter. "Or you know, if it were just us, planning to hang out alone, that would be cool too." Then sighs. His clear blue eyes gaze searchingly into Brian's. "Because if it hasn't been made obvious by last week or even by your friend yesterday, I like you, _like a lot."_

Brian pulls the hand on his chest closer to him, making Justin lean in and their knees touch. He's never been good at expressing his feelings, especially the ones that make the insides of his stomach quiver and his chest cave in. But he's always been magnificent at expressing himself physically.

With his other hand, he cups Justin's left cheek and leans in. Watching in a daze as Justin's bright eyes flutter close in anticipation. "I think I would like that," Brian reveals, tracing his thumb along Justin's lips. He plants a soft kiss there, just a press of the rose bud lips; smelling the faint aroma of coffee, he grins. "The, us, hanging out part. How about we start now?"

Justin hums his agreement.

 **THE END.**

* * *

It's finished. I almost cried while writing _**The End.**_ I absolutely hate endings. But all things must end, right? Thank you so much for everyone that has taken time out of their day to read this fic. It means a lot! and also review, too! I've really appreciated hearing people's comments and feedback.


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